


The Lion and His Duchess

by PhantomPhan16, VicenteValtieri



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomPhan16/pseuds/PhantomPhan16, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicenteValtieri/pseuds/VicenteValtieri
Summary: Years before he met RED Medic, Classic Heavy found his heart in another Medic.





	The Lion and His Duchess

Carl Rogers sat watching the trunk pull into base with their new Medic. He didn't know anything about the medic except they had apparently been top of their class. The person who stepped out of the truck was not what he expected. It was young man, easily 25 with short golden blond hair, a soul patch, bright blue eyes, pale skin, and a three-piece suit. He was slender and only about 5' 10", positively tiny compared to the big New Yorker.

"...And what are you supposed to be?"

"Doctor Edward Reed at your service," he said in a light New England accent.

"You're not going to last a week."

"Well our employer seems to think differently, so we'll see."

"We will see."

Edward wasted no time in settled into the medic's quarters and changing out of his suit. He put on his blue uniform, liking the feel of the leather and the armor. He began setting up the infirmary to suit his needs while Carl went to tell the others.

"New doc's here." He grunted to Beatrice

"Don't you sound thrilled."

"How so?" asked their Spy.

"Wearing suits and his hair pinned back. Like a model. He won't last."

"He'll learn or, like you said, won't last," grunted Virgil, their sniper.

"Don't put too much stock in what he looks like. He might be dangerous underneath."

"He's practically a kid, Bea."

"So? So were you at the beginning of all this."

A throat cleared, and they turned to see Edward.

"Hello, everyone. If you don't mind I'd like to do check-ups on you all so I know what I'm deal with for each of you."

There was an awkward pause. How much had he heard, then Beatrice stood up.

"All right. I'll go first."

Edward smiled, "Right this way, ma'am."

They disappeared, and the soldier, Ross, looked over at Carl.

"He's dead."

"Six feet under already," they agreed.

Carl was reading when they returned, and Fred, the engineer, went for his check-up next.

"Well, Beatrice?" asked the spy.

"He's a good doctor," She replied, "We'll see if he's a good fighter as well."

When Ross returned from his own checkup he was shaking his head.

"What?" Fred asked.

"He's a soft little pretty boy is what he is."

"Come on, Ross, I didn't think he was that bad."

"He's a fruit, Bea, no two ways around it. I give him a week."

"Care to bet on that?"

"Sure, darlin'."

 Carl shook his head and headed for the infirmary. He might as well get his check-up over with. The doctor was easy and professional, taking measurements and asking questions. He moved gracefully about, and Carl couldn't help but watch him.

"Are we done yet, Duchess?" he grunted.

Edward turned at once.

"Duchess?"

"What, don't like it? Too bad."

"I am not a woman, Rogers."

"Too bad, Duchess. That's your nick-name from now on."

The blond suddenly smirked.

"Does that make you a Countess then?"

"I'm not the one who dresses off the pages of Woman's Life."

Edward looked down at his clothes.

"This is my uniform!"

"And you look real pretty in it, Duchess."

He let out a started yelp when a needle jabbed into arm, and Edward drew some blood.

"Sorry, did that sting?" he sweetly asked.

He drew four tubes of blood and withdrew the needle, holding a swab of gauze to the place for a moment then taping it in place with medical tape. Carl didn't flinch and shrugged it off when asked if it stung.

"There. Now get out of my infirmary."

"Of course, Duchess," he strolled out.

"You look smug. What did you do?" asked Greg.

"Got under his skin. Your turn."

"Thanks for that," he grumbled, heading up.

Beatrice just shook her head.

"You do this with everyone," she pointed out, "Trying to prove something?"

Carl smirked, "Just that some can't take the pressure."

"Hmm. Would you care to make a wager on our medic?"

"Considerin’ he was brave enough to stab me with a needle with no warning, I'd say he'll last... a month."

"I say he'll last... Six years, and not a day under."

"You're on," Carl replied.

The first day they were scheduled to fight with Edward Carl handed the Medic his weapons.

"... What are these?"

"Gun, Duchess."

"Yes, but why do I have them? I'm a doctor."

"Because you need to be able to defend yourself as you're going about your business, that's why."

"I've never used a gun before."

"...It's not hard. Point and shoot and try to stay close to us."

"But-"

The doors opened, and they raced out to engage the REDs.

"No time. Let's go," Carl rushed out.

Edward followed close behind. He was fast for a little guy, Carl would give him that.

"How you doin, Duchess?" Carl asked as he fired from behind cover.

Edward opened his mouth to reply when Greg called out up ahead.

"MEDIC!!!"

The blond scanned quickly, located him, and ran.

He was a fast little bastard, dodging through danger to reach Greg with his medkit.

"Watch out!”

Edward leaped over an incoming rocket like a gymnast and slid behind cover to help Greg.

Beatrice appeared at Carl's side.

"...I can't wait to take your money, old man.” she joshed him.

"It's only day one, Bea."

"He's doing fine."

They pulled out a win, and Edward was busy into the night treating them all. The next morning was a ceasefire to recover. They had to regularly call them to heal up. No one wanted to die. Carl made his way to the kitchen to find Edward already there, cooking eggs.

"Smells good. Making to share?"

"I can. I figured you all were asleep."

"Waking up early is a habit for most of us."

"You should be resting. It will help you recover."

"I don't like to sleep in. I can rest here."

"Fine, fine, so long as you don't push yourself."

"I've had worse injuries than this as a child. I'll be fine."

"Who is the doctor here?"

"I am a mercenary. I can doctor myself."

"And I am a real doctor. Rest, I'll bring a plate when this is done."

Carl grumbled and sat down. Soon a plate of food was set in front of him and a cup of tea.

"Thank you."

He did have some manners.

"You're welcome."

Edward finished fixing his own breakfast and sat down to eat as well.

"So, why are you here? You're not a merc. At least, not a normal one."

"My family needs the money," Edward answered.

"Good enough reason," Carl grunted.

"... What about you?"

"Didn't like anything else as much as a gun in my hands."

Edward was silent for a long moment.

"Teach me."

"What?"

"To properly use a gun. I missed everything I shot at yesterday."

"...All right. I'll take you to the range in a bit."

"Thank you."

Later, Carl helped him hold the pistol.

"There's a kick, so brace up."

He felt the smaller man brace himself.

"Good. Steady your arms.

"...Got it," Edward nodded.

He moved behind the doctor.

"Breathe... and fire."

He fired. The bullet hit the target, but not the center.

"There, see? Now try getting closer to the center."

Edward took a breath and tried again.

"Closer. Keep it up."

Needless to say, Edward made it past a week and was getting better at shooting and defending both himself and whoever he was tending to on the battle field. He even made it past a month, which made Bea smug, but it was nowhere near six years yet.

Carl found himself training with the blond more and more, drilling him.

"You can do this. Just breathe, and three quick shots."

"Right. Three shots, don't check until they're done."

"That's right. Come on now."

Bang! Bang! Bang! Edward looked over his gun. One shot hit a fatal shot but the other two were only flesh wounds on the dummy.

"Better than last time," Carl nodded, patting his shoulder.

"I still don't like killing. I'm a doctor. I save lives not... end them."

"Better than losing your own."

"... Is it?"

"I think so," Carl replied, "And I don't really want you to lose yours."

Edward lowered the gun and looked at him.

"What? You care all of the sudden?"

"You're part of the group. I'm the leader. I have to take care of you all."

He sighed, "This isn't what I thought this job was going to be. I didn't know when I signed up that I'd be fighting, but... the money was too good not to take it. My family went into debt putting me through school. If I can't get them out of debt they lose the house, and my family will have to split up since my parents won't be able to take care of my sister."

"You'll be all right," Carl assured him, "You're getting better with the gun, and you're good at avoiding bullets. They're paying you through the nose for this. You'll be able to take care of your family."

"I hope so, but... six years has never seemed so long."

"You'll be fine. Just stay alive," Carl patted him on the shoulder, "It is and isn't that simple all at once."

"I noticed. I think I'm done for today."

"Want to grab a couple beers and go find Sniper?"

"Never drank."

"... Tell me you're joking."

"No."

"Well, you're gonna start. Come on, let's go talk to Demo."

"But I- whoa!"

Carl all but yanked the smaller man off his feet.

"Fall in."

He dragged Edward off to see their demoman, and the blond sighed.

"Demo!"

"Yah, lad?"

"Lets get this kid a drink. Turns out he's a virgin if you know what I mean."

"Right. Good stuff, righ' here."

Demo clunked down a bottle. He poured a shot and handed it to Edward.

"..."

"Come on, don't be shy, son."

Edward pitched it back and made a face.

"Happy?"

"Give him another, Greg."

A new bottle and new shot. Edward coughed as it went down.

"Enough. No more."

"Ugh! What was that?!"

yeah, but he isn't lying maliciously

"Whiskey!"

"That's terrible. I need to rinse my mouth out." He walked away, and Greg looked at Carl. "So what brought that on?"

"I was being friendly. Can't I be friendly for once?"

"Oh. Hah, well I sure didn't peg you for the type."

"And what does that mean?"

"Well I didn't think you were the type to go for someone like him."

Carl gave him a stare. "That's not what's going on."

"Really? Sure seems like it."

Carl threw a box at him and stormed off. That wasn't it! He was just being friendly. ... Right? He thought of Edward, how beautiful and elegant he was. The way his blue eyes lit up when he was happy or seemed to sparkle when he laughed. ...Shit. It was exactly like that.

He sighed. "Dammit."

"What am I going to do now?"

"What's wrong?" asked the object of his desires.

"What are you doing over here?"

"I saw you walking out, and you looked upset."

"It's nothign."

"Well if you want to talk the infirmary is open."

"It's kind of private."

"I'm a doctor. I keep my patient's secrets," he said with a beautiful smile, a wink, then walked away.

Carl watched him go, swaying like a ship in sail. He REALLY wanted to follow him and make the blond his. Hell with it, that was what he was going to do.

Edward squeaked, actually squeaked, when Carl bodily picked him up just outside the infirmary and carried him. He carried him inside and dropped him on a bed.

"Omf! Carl, what was that for?!"

Carl pinned him by his shoulders and kissed him. The blond gasped, his beautiful eyes going wide. They broke apart, panting.

"You... what the hell?! I'm not- I can't-"

His face was bright red, his eyes slightly dilated, and his heart was pounding.

"Yes, you can, and we will. If you don't want this, just say no," And he plunged again.

Edward whined against his mouth, trembling under him.

"Carl, please, I'm not... normal."

"Is anyone?"

"No, I mean... I'm... I'm a dual-gender..."

"That's okay. You got condoms, right?"

He nodded slowly.

"In... in that drawer," he said, pointing.

Carl grabbed a crinkling package and rolled it on. He undressed the doctor like he was unwrapping a present.

"You're beautiful, Duchess."

"...Th-thank you," The other man was trembling slightly now, "You're not bad yourself."

Carl kissed him again. "Just relax, and I'll make you feel good."

Edward gasped and whined as he eased himself in.

"C-Carl. Oh God!"

"Easy, Duchess. You got this easy."

He raised a hand to bite down on it as he panted and gasped. Carl began thrusting in and out gently at first, then faster as Edward begged for more.

They carried on together over the years of the contract, and Carl even wondered if they could, somehow, have a life together.

That all changed in their very last engagement, the day before Beatrice would have won their bet.

He was shooting at a RED Soldier and heard Beatrice off to his left called for Edward. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as he fired. Edward ran for Beatrice in a lull of the fighting. It was too late to stop his shot or change his aim. The shot was deafening to Carl, and he could see the bullet's path as it flew across the field to bury itself in his lover's neck. Edward went down instantly.

"No," he gasped, running to Edwards's side, "No, no, no!"

He pulled the blond behind cover and cradled him.

"Duchess? Eddy? Eddy!"

He was gone, dead when he hit the ground. Pulling him to his chest, he sobbed into the blood-stained blonde hair.

"Come back to me, baby. Come back. Please come back. I'm sorry, Eddy. I'm so sorry."

He didn't even register his team winning the battle around him.

Bea dropped a hand to his shoulder, "...He's gone, Carl... Bring him in."

He felt numb as he carried Edward inside, cradling him tenderly, like his Duchess was merely sleeping.

They laid him out in the infirmary and no one could come near him. Carl kept them all away from his lover, drowning and raging in his grief and guilt until one day a woman came in. He didn't know her and yet when he saw her face and eyes he knew exactly who she was. Edward's mother.

"...Hi, ma'am."

 It had been a long time. Edward had been moved to one of the refrigerators to keep him from rotting. She took his large hand her in two tiny ones and squeezed comfortingly.

"My boy wrote about you, Carl Rogers, with all the love in his heart."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I loved him too," Carl replied, "...He's here. You've come to take him home, haven't you?"

"Yes, we have, and I have something to give you. Eddy always feared something might happen to him. So, he wrote to me about that fear," she reached into her purse and pulled out a folded paper, "He sent this to me to keep safe for you, in case something ever did happen to him."

Carl took it with trembling hands and pointed to the morgue drawer Eddy was in while he went off to read it. He couldn’t stand to see them take him away.

"My darling Carl, if Mother has given you this letter then something has happened to me. I know it hurts, my love, but I want you to be strong, for yourself and for me. Laugh in the face of danger like your always do and face life at full charge."

Carl's eyes welled up with tears that spilled down his face and he curled up into a ball of self-pity and grief. A small hand touched his shoulder. Edward's mother was there, probably to say good-bye.

"I understand if you don't come to funeral, but while Eddy didn't have much he did leave some things to you. I hope you'll collect them."

She unfolded the bottom half of the letter he couldn't bear to read, and there was a small drawing Edward had done of Carl with a relaxed, calm smile on his face.

"...I will," Carl told her, "And I'll be there... at the funeral too. It's the least I could do."

Attending the funeral was one of the hardest things Carl had ever done. Edward's father had shaken his hand firmly, while his mother had kissed his rough cheek. Edward's sister, Dorothy, a sweet young woman, had hugged the big merc. Their home was small, but they welcomed Carl in.

"This is Eddy's room. I've laid out the things he wanted you to have on his bed," said Eddy's mother.

"Thanks."

Carl looked around the small, neat room. Eddy's money - and his dying bonus - had taken care of them well from the looks of things. Carl looked at what was on the bed.

There was a cap, old and worn, well loved by it's obvious use, several drawings and sketches of the team, the base, and mostly of him that he had mailed to his parents for safe keeping. Most of his things at base had been thrown away or given to hospitals. A collection of books with cracked spines from several reads, and his medical degree. Carl was honestly surprised Edward's parents honored that one.

He gathered the precious things into a box and carried them with him to his car. He thanked the Reeds for their time and bid them good-bye. As he drove away he left his heart behind where it had been buried.


End file.
